Warning: May Contain Traces of Nuts
by Boogum
Summary: A collection of Harry Potter drabbles and one-shots. Genres will vary, as will the characters used. May contain traces of nuts.
1. Fat Bottomed Girls

**A/N: **I realise I already have a ridiculous amount of fanfics listed on my profile, so I'm going to put all my non-Draco/Ginny Harry Potter stories that I feel aren't big enough to be stand-alone works in this collection right here. Genres will vary, as will the characters used, but I'm thinking most will be humour (and probably quite ridiculous).

This particular one-shot was inspired by the fabulous Queen song _Fat Bottomed Girls_, which is also where the title comes from.

* * *

**Fat Bottomed Girls**

There was a reason why Dennis Creevey was placed in Gryffindor.

You see, there was one girl in the school who no male in his right mind dared to approach, let alone fancy – and that wasn't just because most people agreed she resembled a troll on steroids. But Dennis Creevey, though a small lad, was by no means perturbed by her less than winning appearance. What he lacked in inches, he made up for in courage – a courage that was certainly needed if he hoped to win the lady of his heart's affection.

For, you see, Dennis Creevey was head over heels in love with Millicent Bulstrode, the meanest (and largest) girl in the school, and it was a known fact that she ate small boys like him for breakfast.

Dennis sighed heavily as he thought of the Slytherin girl who had captured his heart. He had always had a fetish for large women, and Millicent quite stole his breath away with her towering (and extensively wide) frame. There was nothing more delicious to him than the thought of gripping that bulk and showing to her that broomsticks weren't the only thing he could ride well.

Alas, the girl in question did not understand the depth of his feelings for her. Just yesterday she had punched him in the nose because he had complimented her on her new robe (the forget-me-not blue had made her eyes stand out wonderfully). She had obviously assumed that he had been making fun of her, but he would have her know that he was not like those other idiots who were blind to her charms and only cared about silly twigs. Those skinny girls did nothing for him; it was Millicent that he wanted, and it was Millicent that he would get, even if it killed him.

Dennis ruffled his curly blond hair and then straightened his tie. He looked quite dashing, if he did say so himself. There was no way that she would be able to resist him, and, thankfully, the nasty bruise she had given him yesterday had all healed thanks to the caring hands of Madam Pomfrey.

He smiled charmingly at his reflection (just for practise), and then stalked out of his dormitory, looking very much like a boy about to storm a fortress. Considering Millicent's sheer largeness, this was not much of an exaggeration.

It did not take long for Dennis to spot his mountainous siren when he entered the Great Hall. Her reddish-brown hair was tied into pigtails, framing a face that was as plain as it was round, and her snarling teeth were bared as she snapped at Crabbe, who had dared to try and touch her blueberry pancakes. Dennis sighed happily as he watched her clout her fellow Slytherin around the ear. She was so adorable when she was angry. (Draco Malfoy, who happened to be sitting next to Millicent, thought that she looked like a rabid dog guarding its bone, but no one really cares about his opinion.)

"Come on, Dennis," Colin said grumpily, giving his brother a light shove. "You're blocking the way."

Dennis promptly snapped out of his daydream (a rather lurid fantasy that involved him as the pancake now being surrounded by those succulent lips), and turned to face his brother. "What?"

"I said you're blocking the way. Now hurry up and move; I'm starving!"

Dennis obligingly moved out of the way and took his seat at the Gryffindor table. He piled his plate up with food – eyes still fixed on Millicent – and was completely oblivious to the amused smiles being exchanged by his housemates. Everyone knew about Dennis's infatuation with the Slytherin girl, and though none of them could understand it, his attempts to win her affections certainly were entertaining to watch.

But Dennis was not stupid. He knew very well that Millicent liked to enjoy her breakfast in peace, so he decided to wait until she had finished eating before approaching her. His plan today was to take the bull by the horns and say outright what it was that he wanted. Subtle obviously had not worked, and paying her compliments had only resulted in bruises and nasty hexes. No, it was definitely time for drastic actions, and he could only hope that today she would be more receptive to his advances.

He spotted Millicent leaving the Great Hall, and immediately stood up and followed. She was with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, which was a set-back, but he was not about to be stopped now by a bunch of giggling girls.

"Hey, Millicent," he called. "Wait up!"

Millicent threw a look back at him, and then rolled her eyes when she realised who had called out to her. Pansy and Daphne, much to his relief, kept on walking.

"What do you want?" Millicent asked in anything but a friendly manner.

"The pleasure of your company," he responded, giving her his best charming smile.

Millicent raised one eyebrow. "Not interested."

"Wait," Dennis said hastily, putting a hand on her arm to stop her from leaving. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

Millicent stared pointedly at his hand. Dennis reluctantly removed it from her arm.

"Look, Milly—"

"_Millicent_," she growled, glaring at him.

"Right, Millicent." He looked beseechingly up at her. "Do you want to go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

Millicent looked a bit lost for words. "What?"

"We could go to The Three Broomsticks, or there's Madam Puddifoot's, and then we could—"

"Are you actually trying to ask me out on a date, runt?"

Dennis ignored her choice of description, and smiled brilliantly up at her. "Yes, my sweet Millicent, I am."

"You must be insane."

"Not as insane as what you'll make me if you don't say yes," Dennis said desperately. "I'm crazy about you, Milly. Come on, just give me a chance. I promise you won't regret it."

Millicent considered him through critical eyes, taking in his curly blond hair, baby-blue eyes, and boyish good looks. Dennis knew that he was a bit on the runty side (okay, maybe a lot), but he was certainly not ugly, and he thought he had a winning personality.

He made use of that personality now as he gave her another charming smile. "What do you say, Milly?"

Millicent stared at him for a few seconds longer, and then she closed the distance between them, gripped his face hard in her large, almost masculine hands, and kissed him soundly on the lips. Dennis felt like he was floating, he was so elated. Then he realised that his feet actually had lifted a few inches from the ground. He inwardly smiled. Merlin, he loved his big women.

Still, despite Millicent's rather ruthless and dominating ways, Dennis was by no means a passive participant in this battle of kisses, and gave back just as good as he got. It was no surprise, then, that when they finally broke apart, both were more than a little breathless.

Millicent was the first to regain her breath, and smiled in amusement at his very ruffled appearance. "Meet me at the Entrance Hall on Saturday, runt. You can show me this coffee shop of yours."

"Yes, Ma'am," Dennis grinned, giving her a salute.

He watched her leave, and then joyously punched his fist into the air. It seemed that his lady-love had finally recognised his worth. Now he just had to persuade her to let him prove those broomstick skills of his . . .


	2. A Name

**This was written for the Draco Workshop Challenge at The DG Forum (yes, we have workshops on Draco. :P ). **

**The guidelines:**

**Challenge:** Choose ONE (1) of the following scenes in which Draco has done or is about to do something negative (relating to the above characterisation list). Write a short drabble (100-500 words) from Draco's PoV, which illustrates his humanity in the midst of his depravity.

My prompt: "Draco fails to name Harry at Malfoy Manor". This clocked in at 351 words.

* * *

**A Name**

The face was swollen and grotesque. Draco wouldn't want to look at it on the best of days, but this wasn't the best of days (was there even such a thing anymore?), and everyone was demanding he look.

Everyone was demanding he give the name.

Draco stared into the green eyes that stared so defiantly back at him (was it really defiance, or was it fear?). He tried not to think that the eyes looked familiar. He tried not to think that the black messy hair reminded him of _that person_. Names had power, and speaking this one would change everything. It was best just to imagine that there were no similarities.

Don't mistake the matter. It was not this grotesque-looking boy he wanted to protect (wasn't it?). But they had placed Draco as the giver of a death sentence, and he wasn't sure he could handle such a responsibility. The very simplicity of it was what made it so frightening. He didn't even have to kill the boy himself. He just had to say a name and someone else would do it for him.

So easy. So terrifying.

_It can't be him_, he reminded himself. _It looks nothing like him._

But there was his aunt Bellatrix leaning over him, urging him to speak, and there were his mother and father watching, hoping. This name could save them all. This name could give them the respect they needed. This name would change everything.

Draco looked at the swollen face in front of him, so familiar, so unfamiliar. Black hair. Green eyes. It was common enough.

Once (maybe twice), he'd thought he'd like to see the git dead—if it really was _him_. There was plenty of hate in his veins, plenty of jealousy and cruelty. But there was also tiredness. So much tiredness.

So much confused fear.

The green eyes stared at him, questioning. Draco looked away. Maybe he didn't even have to say the name. Maybe he just had to nod.

Maybe.

"Well, Draco?" his aunt prompted, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Is it _him_?"

Draco looked back at the swollen face.

He hesitated.


	3. Of Evil Armies and Feather Boas

This one-shot arose out of a conversation at _The DG Forum_, in which Lizz (TuesdayNovember) stated she was writing some 'Lucissa'. My response:

"_**Lucissa? Seriously?**_

_**When I read that, all I could think of was the Death Eater annual Drag Queen competition. Guess what Lucius's name was."**_

And so a crack!fic was born. Needless to say, if you're expecting a serious account of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, I think you should find something else to read . . .

* * *

**Of Evil Armies and Feather Boas**

Voldemort rubbed a hand to his forehead, trying to ease the beginnings of what was promising to be a rather nasty headache. It was _that day_ again, the day where his army of raping, murdering and pillaging Death Eaters—the most evil of all magical folk—decided to turn into skirt-twirling idiots.

"Why me?" Voldemort moaned, turning to stare at Nagini, who was coiled into a ball near his feet. "Why did _my_ evil army have to celebrate an Annual Drag Queen Day? No other Dark Lord had to deal with this; their soldiers struck fear into the hearts of all men, but look at these fools. How can I inspire terror when my Death Eaters are dressed up in feather boas and heels!"

"Masssster, you did promisssssse them," Nagini hissed warningly. "You know what happened lassssst time when you denied them from putting on a Death Eater opera."

Voldemort barely repressed a shudder. "Don't remind me. The singing mutiny went on for two weeks, even after I tortured the lot of them and made an example of that buffoon Wellesley who thought he was a countertenor. We almost missed taking over the Ministry because of that."

"Yesssss, Masssster. Ssso, perhapsssss it would be wisssssse to let them get their way thisssss time. You don't want them to bring up the opera isssssue again."

Voldemort stroked his chin with an unnaturally long finger, much struck by this advice. "You're right. I'd rather see Macnair dressed in dominatrix leather and wearing Pizzazz makeup than singing _Don Giovanni_ in that scratchy voice of his."

"Indeed, Masssster."

The Dark Lord sighed in resignation. "Very well. We'll let them have their silly competition, but after this it's back to business. I've had enough of rearranging my weekly planner because of their little upstarts—the colours are all out of synch now and there are messy crosses all over the place. No, I plan on taking over Hogsmeade tomorrow and that's that!"

Nagini bowed in acknowledgement and then, hesitating a moment, made a funny hissing noise that might have been an attempt to clear her throat. "Er, Massster, what of Bellatrixssss?"

"Bother," Voldemort muttered, running a hand over his bald head. "I almost forgot about her. She can meet me in my chambers after the competition. And tell her to bring the fluffy handcuffs. I'm going to need a good distraction after tonight."

"Yessssss, Massster," Nagini hissed, dipping her head into another bow.

Voldemort sighed and glanced out the window to where he could see his Death Eaters gathered in full drag and arguing over who was going to win the competition. He spotted Mulciber and Nott senior having what looked like a rather heated exchange. Nott suddenly struck Mulciber in the chin with his fist and then minced away in vibrant green heels, smiling in triumph.

Voldemort shook his head in dismay. "They really just don't make evil minions like they used to."

**oOo**

In another part of the Death Eater lair, Draco Malfoy was having much the same thought as his master. He had never thought when first signing up for the Death Eaters that he would be forced to watch men he both admired and feared strut around in dresses that would have put Pansy's pink frilly dress robe to shame. That his father seemed to be at the forefront of the group of cross-dressing men only made it worse.

"This is embarrassing," Draco muttered, glancing at his aunt, who was sharpening a knife next to him and watching the group of squabbling men with an expression of disgust on her face. "What would mother think if she saw him now? What would _anyone_ think?"

"I always did say the Malfoys had a few too many loose cores in their wands," Bellatrix observed, testing the tip of the knife on her finger and drawing a drop of crimson. She smiled in satisfaction and licked the blood from her skin, taking indecent relish in the taste. "Narcissa was a fool to get involved with him."

Draco said nothing. If anyone had too many loose cores in their wand, it was his aunt Bellatrix. Then again . . .

He glanced back at Lucius, examining the green velvet encasing his father's form, and the rather risqué slit that extended well above the knee, revealing far too much muscular thigh than was desired. A frown creased Draco's brow. Maybe his aunt did have a point. Suddenly, he hoped his Black genes were the dominant.

"Oh, look," Bellatrix said with false enthusiasm, "here comes little Lucissa now."

Lucissa was indeed Lucius's drag name, but little he most definitely was not. Draco watched as his father sashayed towards them, narrow hips swaying from side to side from the ridiculously high heels he had chosen to wear, and which placed the older blond well above six feet. Draco was astonished. Since when had his father learnt to walk in heels so well?

"Draco, darling, aren't you going to join in the competition?" Lucius asked in a decidedly feminine voice, flicking his long silky hair over his shoulder.

His son cringed. "Do you have to speak to me like that, Father?"

"I'm just trying to stay in character," Lucius explained, somehow managing to look stern and simper at the same time. "I intend to win this year. Rodolphus thinks he's going to claim the title of Drag Queen of the Year with his ridiculous swan outfit, but I think I look far prettier than him."

"I didn't know Uncle was participating," Draco said, glancing around the assortment of men dressed in drag.

"Do not speak to me of that man," Bellatrix hissed, tightening her grip on her knife as if she would like nothing more than to drive it into the absent Lestrange's chest.

"He's your husband," Draco pointed out, meeting his aunt's hooded black eyes.

"And that's your father," Bellatrix retorted, lifting an eyebrow in Lucius's direction. "Worry about your own problems, brat."

Lucius pulled out a very pretty fan from his corset and fluttered it to and fro, casting a bored look around the room. "The only one here who has a problem is you, Bella," he drawled, then suddenly narrowed his eyes on Antonin Dolohov, who was looking quite striking in a sexy little red number.

Draco and Bellatrix stared.

"I need some wine," Bellatrix announced, heading toward the refreshment table.

"I think I'll join you," Draco muttered, hastily following his aunt.

Lucius turned away from his family, quite unperturbed by their less than supportive behaviour. He spotted Macnair dressed in his usual skimpy leather and seven inch heels, and strutted over.

"Lady Pain," Lucius greeted, using his friend's drag name.

"Lucissa," Macnair acknowledged. "I see you've chosen to go for the elegant look this year."

"I thought it was time for a change," Lucius responded. "You're still in your leathers, I see."

Macnair smiled. "What can I say, it goes with the profession."

Lucius snapped his fan shut. "Well, we'll see if it will be enough."

"Indeed we will."

The doors to the great hall opened and Voldemort stepped out, Nagini slithering behind him. All the Death Eaters bowed in silent reverence, some nearly stumbling over their heels from the sudden sense of vertigo. Obviously, they were not as talented as Lucius at keeping their balance.

"Alright, let's get this competition started," Voldemort said impatiently. "Where's Severus? Isn't he supposed to be the announcer?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said, looking quite pained, as if the thought of hosting the Death Eater Annual Drag Queen Competition somehow physically wounded him. "I was asked to be the announcer."

"Well, hurry up then," Voldemort snapped. "We haven't got all night."

"Yes, my Lord."

Severus walked over to the pulpit, standing out like a sore thumb with his black hair and robes as he moved through the fluorescent pinks and leopard spots that adorned his fellow Death Eaters. From the back corner of the room, Bellatrix yawned, finding the whole thing ridiculous—that is until her eyes fell on her master, and then she was aglow with excitement and was smiling just as sappily as the rest of the men gathered, though for quite different reasons. Draco rolled his eyes. He wondered what his uncle thought of Bellatrix's obsessive love for her master. Then again, his uncle was wearing a swan.

"We're gathered here tonight to celebrate Annual Drag Queen Day," Severus began.

"This isn't a bloody wedding," Fenrir growled, placing a hand on his hairy hips, which were barely concealed by the sheer belly dancing costume he was wearing. "Get on with it, Snape!"

Severus cleared his throat. "The first category is for the most creative outfit. We'll begin by—"

Suddenly there was a series of loud cracks and pops. The Death Eaters turned as one, mouths dropping open in surprise and dismay as they saw the Order of the Phoenix appear in front of them, wands raised for attack. In return, the members of the Order of the Phoenix just stared for a moment, unable to believe what they were seeing.

"Why me?" Voldemort moaned, seeing his visions of ruling the world crumble away into nothing. "Why does this always happen to me?"

No one was going to be afraid of his Death Eaters after seeing them dressed like that. The damage to their reputation would be irreparable.

Lucius, or Lucissa as he preferred to be called on Annual Drag Queen Day, pulled out his wand from his corset and aimed it at the Order members. "How dare you interrupt our Drag Queen competition!" he snarled, smoky eyes narrowing with hate. "I'll kill you for this!"

The other femininely clad Death Eaters also brought out their wands, and soon an all out war was going on between the stunned intruders and the incensed drag queens, with curses flying backwards and forwards in multicoloured clashes like the spinning lights of a disco ball. A few seven inch heels flew overhead, falling like spiked missiles into the Order members' faces, and a wide berth was soon given to Macnair, who lived up to his drag queen name by proving himself particularly vicious. Voldemort and Bellatrix were battling side by side, knocking back anyone who dared come near them, and not far from those two was Rodolphus Lestrange, shooting green-tipped death from his wand and attacking anyone who got too close with the steel-tipped swan head that had been curled around his neck. Even as a drag queen he liked to be creative with his weapons.

"Sweet Salazar," Draco muttered, ducking a curse and taking safety behind a pillar. "This place is turning into a blood bath."

And indeed it was. The Death Eaters were so furious at having their one day off from playing evil minion to the Dark Lord ruined that they were even more ferocious than usual. The Order stood no chance, and soon the drag queens had driven all the intruders who had managed to stay alive back out of their lair. Now it was just the Death Eaters left, though with a few extra bodies littering the floor for decoration.

Lucius smoothed down his emerald—and now ripped—dress and fixed up his dishevelled hair. "Well," he said calmly, as if he had not just gone on a butchering rampage, "that's that taken care of. Shall we continue with the competition?"

Voldemort stared at his femininely clad Death Eaters with dawning respect. "Indeed, I think we should. It seems there is some merit in this Annual Drag Queen Competition, after all." He glanced at Severus, who was still standing near the podium. "What are you waiting for, Severus? Continue."

Severus let out a weary sigh. "Very well," he muttered, and proceeded to outline the different categories.

Nagini came to slither up beside Voldemort while Snape was still speaking. "Are you pleassssed, Massssster?" she asked.

"Indeed, I am," he responded, stroking his chin as he observed his flamboyant Death Eaters. "And I think I have an idea."

"What issss that, Masssster?"

"We're going to take Annual Drag Queen Day to the world."

Nagini blinked in surprise. "We are, Masssster?"

"Yes. And I want you to help me come up with a drag queen name."

"Er—"

"I'm going to need a dress too. What do you think I should have my theme be?"

"Um—"

"I could always do something with snakes. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Nagini?"

Nagini sighed and shook her scaly head. "They really just don't make evil Masssstersssss like they ussssed to."


End file.
